Your name is John Egbert and you are going to do it.

You think...

The rope dangles in front of you and think about everything that's happened to you over the course of the year. All that pain, all that suffering. You can say that there have been some good things that happened to you. Dave for one. Jade for another. But even these good things you were able to spoil, you took them in your hands and cherished them, but the salt water from your lungs washed them away.

You sit here just staring at the symbol in your hand and try to think through the blood seeping from the cuts on your chest; it is becoming very difficult. Perhaps you shouldn't even do anything about them, maybe you should just let yourself bleed to death. You've heard that it's like falling asleep, that's something you definitely think you could get behind. But what kind of person would that make you? You feel a rush of exhaustion wash over you and you lay on your back, the cold, ancient pavement chilling your spine and rubbing more black grit onto your body. It feels like sandpaper against your roughly abused flesh. You hold the cordage over your head and let it sway back and forth in the breeze. It's almost as if there is someone hanging from it already.

No. You can't do it, you selfish little shit. You know for a fact that you won't be able to take that last step, no matter how far underwater you are. You wish you could do it, now. God, why can't you just make a decision you can follow through with. Ever. You think for a moment longer.

There is one thing you can do...

You sit up, painfully, and manage to get yourself to your feet. You make your way back toward your backpack and grope at it. Your vision is blurry from the pain and you don't know if what your about to do could even be considered-

Well...

That's not really what's important right now.

You finally manage to get your hand on the zipper and rip the bag open as quickly as your sluggish brain will allow you. You grasp hurriedly for a pen or a pencil, you don't care, and your notebook. You stare at the baby blue cover of it for just a moment. It had been doodled on constantly throughout the year and you can see the timeline of your mental and emotional state. The most recent doodles consist of overly large slash marks with blood and pus leaking out of them; you don't think you remember drawing them as detailed as you had, if you're honest. As you move backward in your timeline, you see images of your dad's signature fedora, crushed and bloodied. The same thing occurs with Dave's shades, or at least what you think they look like. You'd never actually seen them for yourself so you had just drawn what you imagined to be sitting on his imaginary face. A tear slides down your face as you recall how betrayed you felt at Dave's unwillingness to share his face with you. It was a harsh feeling, but honestly, that hurt did plenty to distract you from the pain of your fathers absence and the torture from the kids at school. You keep moving back in time, farther back in the year until you reach the first day of school. You had drawn a picture of the iconic Ghostbusters Ghost. So simple, so happy. You wish you were capable of returning to those days and starting over before you made your mistake. It would have been different if you just hadn't spoken your mind. You shouldn't have said a thing.

But things are what they are and there is nothing you can do to change that. So you open the notebook and turn to the next blank page. You take a deep breath and begin to write.

To whom it may concern:

I don't really know if anyone even is concerned to tell you the truth, but I guess this is what people do in times like these right? They leave a letter. For their loved ones. But I guess I don't really have any of those, well none that care about me anyway. Maybe it'd be best if I keep this short.

My life overall hasn't been all that eventful. I excell at biology, but I don't think there's anything else that's noteworthy. People always seemed to be on my side up until this last year and I don't know why to be honest. It just feels like everything's been thrown to the dogs so to speak and all of it was because I opened my big, fat mouth.

It all started when I told my best friend that I had feelings for him. Yes him. And I guess, if you don't know me, that you can see the scandal behind this since I am also male. I just don't understand why it was such a big deal that I had a dick and so did he. If there was one question that I wish was answered, it'd be why. Why did this happen. I know that I deserve it. I've always been worthless, not good at anything, and on top of that I'm gay. I just don't really understand it, but I know I deserve it. Does that make sense? Whatever, I won't be around much longer, anyway.

I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel anymore. When all this first started out, I tried to convince myself that "I was strong" I can't think of a bigger lie in all my life that I've ever told anyone. Ever. But now, everything just seems to blur together; lines are being crossed, I realize this. No one else should have to suffer what I'm feeling right now as I'm bleeding. I don't really know what to say.

I guess the point of this is to say goodbye. There really is no reason for me to be here anymore. I love the people in my life, but they can't seem to stand me. And really, what else is there for a person to live for in their life? I wish that this letter would somehow get to those people that I've hurt. Dave. I don't know if you'll ever get to read this, but if you do. It's not your fault. It never was. This is all me and I feel nothing but selfish and self-centered for dragging you around like a beaten puppy. I have had no right to have a friend as good as you were to me. Thank you.

Hell if I know if anyone will even read this. Hell if I know if anyone even cares anymore.

I sure as hell don't anymore.

Goodbye,

John Egbert

Okay. This is it. The moment of truth.

You slowly reach into your bag and retrieve a razor from a package you don't remember having left amongst your school items. You know that if you just lay here long enough, you would bleed out of your own accord, but you don't think you can handle a death that slow. There is just no way around it. The deed needs to be done and it needs to be done now.

Feeling like the process deserves some semblance of ceremony, you lie on the ground and grab your shirt and lay it over your torso, making sure to leave the marks left on you visible. You then raise your wrist and expertly drag the clean blade across your flesh, feeling the familiar sting. You know it's not enough to make things move faster so you slice it again with more pressure.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until you nearly reach your bone. The amount of red flowing out of your arm is astounding and you feel an inkling of lightheadedness already. You swiftly do the same with your other wrist and lay them down by your side with your palms facing up so you can feel the streams of blood course over the entirety of your wrists.

What will people think of you now? Some sort of martyr? A victim? Maybe some people will, but everyone will see you for what you truly are, a coward and a freak who shouldn't have been stricken upon the Earth to begin with.

You guess that some decent things came out of your time in this existence. Your mother for one. You can almost smell her over the iron tang of blood in the air. When she was with you, she never kept her smile off her face for very long. She was always there for you, sometimes in the only way she could: as a beloved memory. Jade was another. She never got angry with you. She was always kind, but she was constantly busy. You totally understood. She didn't have time for a worthless heap like you and you never wanted to push the issue. And then there was Dave. He always treated you like a real person. There was no one who would make sure you were okay like he would. Even though he was just a wall of red text to you, there was nothing better then hearing the familiar ping from your computer and being launched into a new rap he'd written or seeing one of his lengthy metaphors that always floored you with their irony. And you are floating away. Surrounded by clouds of blood and the sound of humanity just a few hundred yard away. There was no going back now so you just let yourself drift off into the abyss.

A/N: So yeah

That was it. I know it's crazy. The last chapter to be written for this fic. I'm so sorry. Truly I am. I'm almost positive that I've shed more tears in the making of this than anyone who reads this. It's actually very upsetting.

I'd like to thank the people who have been with me and reviewed for this fic, seriously you are the ones that drove me throughout the whole thing and I'm so glad that you people enjoy my work so much. So, a big shout out to:

IcyReverse

PastaCakeVe

gravitysabully

dumb-strider

Lillix-lolit

and various guest people who don't leave names...

you guys have been with me for so long and I want to thank you for supporting me

And a special thanks to the people who pester me and make me write thing on time (or faster):

fiendofspace

Kaycee Columbell

Jennifer Scott

and my good friend Stubbs who wants to kill me up every time I post something.

I couldn't have done it without you. I'm also truely sorry if I missed your name, there's a lot of people I'd love to thank, but I'm sure you people just want to leave now so...

Thanks again for everything :)

-AJ3